In The Penal Colony (1919) By Franz Kafka

"How we drank in the transfigured look on the sufferer's face, how we bathed our cheeks in the warmth of that justice- achieved at long last and fading quickly. What times those were, my comrade!"

Having recently finished 1915's 'The Metamorphosis', I ventured to read another of acclaimed author Franz Kafka's short stories. Conveniently enough, this 1919 publication could be found in the same book, along with 1912's The Judgement - also by Kafka. I had been somewhat disappointed by my first experience of Kafka's work, but I was still keen to read another of his more acclaimed tales.

"How could a man not be sickened when the felt in his mouth had been gnawed and drooled on by more than a hundred men as they lay dying?"

And so, I very quickly moved on to this; 'In The Penal Colony'. Immediately, I found myself more engrossed by the dictation, with far less of the excessive, drawn-out and seemingly directionless prose Kafka had been prone to in my prior read. Each sentence flowed far smoother, and read far easier, than that of 'The Metamorphosis', which was, in no uncertain terms, a relief for me.

"But the condemned man looked so submissively doglike that it seemed as if he might have been allowed to run free on the slopes and would only need to be whistled for when the execution was due to begin."

Present still, was the writer's proclivity for the surreal and disturbing, for which, so many of his works are known. Kafka's creativity is undeniable, as he seeks to perturb and intrigue his readers, through immaculate detail, with a horrifying device that feels as though it truly could have seen a face in the real world.

"You've seen yourself how difficult the writing is to decipher with your eyes, but our man deciphers it with his wounds."

'In The Penal Colony' is, at its heart, a cautionary tale about a justice system clinging to power and influence, in spite of societal change. It illudes to said system prioritising the upholding of its own power, rather than serving as a benchmark of justice and equity. This desperate and dictatorous display of oppression is a metaphorical, and in some cases literal, form of torture and cruelty.

"Many questions were troubling the explorer, but at the sight of the prisoner he asked only: "Does he know his sentence?" "No," said the officer..."

Kafka's penchant for holding a mirror to society through creative storytelling and imagery is immaculate. Furthermore, this displaying of such a tendancy is far more refined and concise than that of the aforementioned short story I had read previously. As such, I am far more eager to expand my experiences of his bibliography.

"Enlightenment comes to even the dimmest. It begins around the eyes, and it spreads outward from there- a sight that might tempt one to lie down under the harrow oneself."